


Collected Snippets

by brokibrodinson



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4380968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokibrodinson/pseuds/brokibrodinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of short ficlets I've written over time. The originals can be found in my writing tag on tumblr.</p><p>These are mostly conhayth, but there are some other pairings thrown in too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scrap #1

**Author's Note:**

> Uploaded by popular demand! (ie. the-lady-aridette and guineapigprincess)  
> These are just some short little drabbles and scraps I've done. I'm uploading them in order of when I wrote them (oldest to newest).  
> This first one was a discarded scrap from my fic 'Wavering Resolve.' I took it out of the actual fic, but I liked some of the ideas in it, so I kept this little part anyway.

“Good boy,” Haytham had said.

Panting, spent, Connor wondered what it was about such a phrase that could have set him off so – praise for an obedient child, he thought scornfully, trying to be irked by it.

He had never thought of himself as particularly submissive – he was trying to assist a revolution after all! He was a rebel, a dissenter!

But why? A voice prompted him. Had he not spent most of his life obeying the will of others?

Why had he sought out Achilles and become an Assassin? Because a spirit told him to.

Why was he hunting down Templars, his father’s men? Because Achilles told him to.

Why was he assisting a revolution? Because he believed in a free world, certainly, but originally because men like Sam Adams and George Washington told him to.

Was this why he basked in Haytham’s praise, his approval?

So much so that the mere memory of it could grant his body sexual release?

He did not like to think so, but he was literally covered in the evidence.

Don’t you want to be a good boy for your father? the voice asked, mocking now, and tinged with suggestion.

No! Yes! I do not know! Connor thought, confused and frustrated.

The question plagued him, and it felt like an eternity before he was finally able to fall into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Three-Sentence Fics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Responses to some three-sentence prompts. Mostly conhayth, but there's an ezioleo and an altmal thrown in there too for good measure. Oh and a hayziio!

_Anonymous asked: If you're willing to do the three sentence fic may I request a modern AU with Ezio and Leonardo?_

Leonardo had been suffering from a month-long spell of artist’s block, so Ezio had taken him out to the art gallery to admire the classics.  
  
“Ah Ezio,” Leonardo sighed wistfully, looking around at all the Botticellis, Monets and Kahlos, “if I were able to produce a work half as great as these masterpieces I could die a happy man.”

“Nonsense, _amore mio_ ,” Ezio murmured, kissing his cheek, “the only masterpiece here is  _you_.”

* * *

  _Anonymous asked: could you do altair and malik in a pacific rim au? thanks!_

It had been extremely difficult for Malik to return to piloting a Jaeger after the horrific death of his brother and the loss of his left arm.

Meeting Altair had changed all that however, the man’s challenging golden eyes and scarred smirk rekindling a fire he hadn’t felt in five years.

“Don’t get cocky, Altair,” Malik said, grinning despite himself after they killed their first Kaiju together, “you’re still a novice in my eyes.”

* * *

  _Anonymous asked: 3 sentence fic prompt: AU ToKW where Connor meets Haytham instead of Ziio. (Wouldn't mind a full blown fic either :D)_

While Haytham wouldn’t exactly have been Connor’s first choice of companion in this strange otherworld they seemed to find themselves in, he was nonetheless pleased to see a familiar face, even one as disagreeable as his father’s.

Yet, Haytham seemed different in this reality, less harsh, less caustic, if still not exactly warm.

Perhaps it was the tea of the Great Willow that had rendered him thus, Connor thought, his fingers tracing the triangular markings and sinuous lines that accentuated the curve and jut of musculature and bone - a mirror image of his own - or perhaps Haytham simply recognised that the common threat of Washington was far more important than the Assassin/Templar conflict; either way Connor thought, as a warm hand clasped his own, he was glad to have found a safe mooring in the raging storm, no matter how temporary.

* * *

  _Anonymous asked: haytham/ziio, soul mates au? <3_

For the first couple of decades of his life, Haytham would gaze at his wrist with some despair, wondering what kind of name ’Kaniehtí:io’ was, and where on earth he would find such a person.

As he became more and more entrenched in his new Templar duties however, it became less important to him to know, dismissed as yet another question in a sea of mysteries - at least that was until he boarded the  _Providence_ ; the ship that would take him to the New World, and he began to wonder once again.

Upon infiltrating Southgate with his new Templar allies, Haytham encountered a Native woman with dark eyes and proud bearing, and he felt a strange pull towards her, though it was not until he freed her from her manacles and saw his own name inscribed upon her wrist that he knew for certain that he had found his Kaniehtí:io at last. 

* * *

_Anonymous asked: More prompts! :) #1 - During the battle, Connor raises his blade to Haytham's neck but stops, then lets his hand fall away. Haytham lets go of Connor's neck and rages at him._

Fighting for breath, his father’s hands around his throat and choking the life out of him, Connor raises his arm to deliver the killing blow that will sever the life of his last remaining family, hesitates, then lets his hand fall back to the ground.

“Foolish boy,” Haytham hisses, loosening his grip - he is not able to kill his son if the Assassin will not fight back, “you are  _weak_.”

"You are wrong, father,” Connor replies calmly, shoving Haytham back and shakily rising to his feet, “I have never been stronger.”

* * *

  _Anonymous_ _asked: #2 - Connor finds out Haytham was the one to sever the rope at his execution. Sentiment ensues._

“It was not your Assassins who saved you that day!” Haytham snapped, exasperated during one of their many fights, “oh certainly they came with their bows and shot an arrow at the rope, but it was  _my_ knife that severed it in the end.”

Connor stared at him, “Why would you do such a thing?” he asked, stunned.

"Because,” Haytham paused, then forged on, “because I would not see my only son perish at the end of a hangman’s noose, not then and not  _ever,_ ” - Connor noticed the Templar’s words became an impassioned growl towards the end, but he didn’t think Haytham’s fury was directed at him; instead he seemed incensed by what he could have witnessed that day - it seemed the Grand Master was more sentimental than he’d thought. 

* * *

_Anonymous asked: #3 - Connor wonders why he doesn't mind being touched by his father, of all people. Can be slashy. ;)_

It was a truth now long accepted by Connor that the trauma he had suffered as a child had cursed him with an intense aversion to physical contact.

And yet, he thought, flushing slightly, there was  _one_  person whose touch wasn’t so unbearable… - his thoughts stuttered to a halt as he felt lips against his throat, a strong arm circling around his waist, and a voice whispering, “what are you thinking about?”

“You,” Connor answered truthfully, and was rewarded by a low chuckle as he was drawn back into his father’s arms.

* * *

_Anonymous asked: For the 3 sentence fic maybe? Haytham wearing those pretty women lacey nighties? *hides*_

Connor didn’t know what he’d been expecting when Haytham finally returned to the bedroom, but seeing his father standing in the doorway, dressed in nothing but clinging black silk and lace was not it.

Connor swallowed, nervous and aroused, as Haytham approached looking predatory, and inhaled sharply as the older man paused, smirking at the side of the bed.

Haytham opened his mouth to say something provocative, but was interrupted by his son grabbing him around the waist and pulling him down onto the bed, where he proceeded to claim every inch of skin he could reach; the silk stays on.


	3. Scrap #2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in response to one of those marvellous xnalara pictures that people have been creating. I'll add a link later.

Why Haytham had allowed Connor to drag him along for a romp into the verdant expanse of the Frontier, he couldn’t recall.

Perhaps it was the hopeful expression that had crossed his son’s face, or perhaps the suggestive glint in his eye.

Either way, he found himself quite irritable after they’d been walking for fifteen minutes or so. What was the point of this? He had far more important things to be doing.

At last Connor came to a stop.

“I wanted to show you this place,” he explained, indicating the small clearing with a stream running nearby. 

It  _was_  a nice spot, Haytham had to admit, though he did not say anything of the sort out loud.

“And what do you intend to do now that we are here?” he asked haughtily, unimpressed.

Connor rolled his eyes. He knew his father was being deliberately abrasive. “A few things come to mind,” he drawled, finding a soft patch of ground and sitting down, spreading his legs slightly.

“And what would those be?” the Templar asked, tone bored, though his eyes followed Connor’s movements intently.

Connor smirked at him. “Come here.”

“If you think I’ll let you get away with ordering  _me_ around…” Haytham grumbled even as he obeyed, moving closer and kneeling in front of his son.

Connor said nothing, just smiled at him before reaching forward to tug Haytham closer.

Haytham barely had time to brace his hands against the soft earth before he was pulled down on top of the Assassin who looked up at him hungrily, his eyes darkening.

The Templar rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss him firmly. “Is this some secret fantasy of yours? he asked dryly. ”To be ravished in a forest?“ 

"Be quiet,” Connor growled, and pulled him back down for another kiss.


	4. Scrap #3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was for jealous Connor!

Connor looked on in supreme annoyance as the barmaid sent his father yet another sultry glance from beneath her lashes, bending down just slightly further than was strictly necessary to reveal the low neckline of her blouse.

Haytham didn’t appear to be paying her any mind, Connor was pleased to see, but her attempts to capture his attention were still grating on his nerves.

“Can we go upstairs for a moment?” he asked in an undertone, breaking the silence.

Haytham gave him a questioning look. “What for?”

“I…” Connor hesitated. “I want to tell you something.”

The Templar did not look convinced, but rose to his feet nonetheless and followed Connor to their hired tavern room.

Still irritated by the barmaid’s display, Connor barely waited until the door was shut behind them both before launching himself at Haytham, shoving him back against the door and pinning him there with his weight.

“What’s gotten into you?” Haytham asked, breathless and amused, only to be answered with a biting kiss.

Connor’s lips continued along his jaw, pausing to growl against his ear, “You are  _mine_.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” Haytham scoffed, pushing back at Connor in an attempt to regain some space.

Connor didn’t budge. “Say it,” he snarled.

Haytham just smirked infuriatingly at him. “I’ll do no such thing.”

The Assassin bared his teeth in frustration, his grip on his father tightening. “ _Now_.”

His father rolled his eyes at him. “Oh very well,” he relented. His smile turned feral and filthy. “I’m all yours,” he said with deliberate slowness, eyes darkening with arousal.

Connor all but moaned, crushing Haytham against the wood of the door and kissing him hungrily. 

Neither of them were seen at the bar for the rest of the night.


	5. Minifill: Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minifill for a [kink meme prompt](http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1795.html?thread=8827139#cmt8827139):   
> “The only time Haytham allows himself to show Connor tenderness and affection and care is during sex.”

Haytham was not a kind man.

Clever, yes, and certainly ruthless, but not kind.

Connor knew this.

He saw the coldness with which his father operated every day, saw the brutality he resorted to to get his way.

But he knew there was more to Haytham than that.

For beneath the Grand Master’s mask of indifference lay a far warmer, more caring man than perhaps anyone could have guessed.

Connor liked to think he was the only one aware of this little secret of Haytham’s.

He was the only one who knew how tender his kisses were, how gentle his hands.

He knew how Haytham did not fight his son’s naturally dominating nature but instead would arch, groaning, into the Assassin’s eager touch.

When they fought, Haytham’s eyes would flash with barely contained fury, his sharp tongue venomous with insults.

There was none of that when he took Connor.

He preferred to take things slow, gentle, unhurried.

Perhaps it was the only time he felt he was able to.

Either way, Connor thought, as he enjoyed Haytham’s lips dragging heatedly across his throat, he knew this was a secret he alone had been entrusted with.

It was a secret he meant to keep.


	6. Cheiloproclitic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next couple of chapters are responses to one word prompts chosen from a list.
> 
> **Cheiloproclitic** \- Being attracted to someone’s lips. 
> 
> (This one's shaytham)

It hadn’t escaped Haytham’s notice that the newest addition to the Order, Shay, was a rather attractive young man.

His eyes were a lovely warm shade of brown, prone to dancing with mischief and often set alight with good humour. His cheekbones were sharp and well-defined, and he possessed a good strong chin.

However the feature that most often occupied Haytham’s attention was the man’s lips. 

He frequently found his eyes drawn to them, wondering what they’d feel like beneath his own, wondering what they’d taste like…

Perhaps he’d been too obvious for finally one day he was drawn aside by Shay and found himself with those same tantalising lips pressed firmly against his, a muffled gasp escaping him as he was kissed long and hard.

When they broke apart Shay’s mouth was curved in an unrepentant smirk.

“Thought I’d save you the trouble, sir,” he drawled, brushing past Haytham without a backwards glance.

For once in his life Haytham was left utterly lost for words, touching fingers to his mouth and feeling rather perplexed.


	7. Mamihlapinatapei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Mamihlapinatapei** \- The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

It had begun with a series of covert glances, stolen when each man thought the other wasn’t looking. Before long they had begun to catch each other in the act, leading to prolonged moments of eye contact until one or both of them looked away.

This time however… this time it was different.

They had already been standing close to each other when they found themselves caught in each others’ gaze, Connor’s eyes widening when Haytham didn’t look away.

Saying nothing, Connor took a step closer, and then another until he was standing directly in front of his father. 

Haytham wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the situation, but even he couldn’t ignore the feeling of sheer magnetic attraction that seemed to be hanging between them.

But how could be certain Connor felt the same?

“Do you-” he began, just as Connor said “I…-”

They both broke off again. 

Then, as though some silent unspoken signal had passed between them they both moved towards each other. 

There was only a second’s worth of hesitation before they were kissing, tentative at first, then increasing in ardour as they realised they both wanted the same thing.

Neither man said the words aloud, but the message was clear nonetheless.

Despite everything, it seemed they were in love.


	8. Cataglottism/Basorexia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Cataglottism** \- Kissing with tongue.  
>  **Basorexia** \- An overwhelming desire to kiss.

They were having one of their arguments again.

“I don’t know how many times we must exhaust the point until you are satisfied, Connor,” Haytham snarled, already feeling a headache beginning to form. “Freedom does not automatically signify safety or happiness or wellbeing!”

“But the people must have the right to choose!” Connor snapped back. “It should not be the responsibility of the few to decide the fate of the many!”

It was a path they’d travelled many times together, but this time Haytham had had enough. Irritated beyond belief at his son’s inability to  _see_ , to  _understand_ , his blood was running hot in his veins, his frustration simmering dangerously below the surface.

Luckily he had a far more constructive activity in mind to release some of the pent-up anger the two of them were experiencing.

Haytham stepped closer and took a firm hold of Connor’s chin in one hand, pleased when the Assassin didn’t stiffen but instead met his gaze squarely.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Haytham said quietly, “and you’re going to be silent and I’m not going to hear another word on this matter for the rest of the day. Am I understood?”

Connor looked at Haytham’s mouth and licked his lips. “Yes, father.”

“Good.”

But when Connor made to lean forward and initiate a kiss himself, Haytham simply stepped backwards out of reach, earning a scowl from his son. 

Haytham smirked, but before Connor could come up with a suitably scathing comment he was being pulled towards the object of his ire so the Templar could kiss him hard on the mouth.

It was certainly not the gentlest kiss they’d ever shared - Haytham was still annoyed - but Connor liked how rough it was, relishing the feeling of his father’s tongue as it violated his mouth.

When they broke apart they both felt a lot calmer.

Except…

“Freedom is still better,” Connor said with a grin, then was up and out of the window before Haytham could start yelling again.


	9. Brontide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Brontide** \- The low rumbling of distant thunder.

The sound of thunder never failed to make Connor homesick.

Among his people, the first thunderstorm of spring was celebrated with a ceremony, with tobacco thrown on the fire so that the resulting smoke would be sent up to greet the spirits.

Sitting by himself within the wilderness of the frontier, Connor watched the heavy clouds roll overhead, saw the wild arcs of lightning and heard the powerful crashes of thunder that followed. 

His throat tightened.

Long past were the days he would rush out of his mother’s longhouse to greet the pouring rain with open arms.

Long past were the days that the pungent scent of tobacco would assault his nostrils as it filled the air, combining with the smell of wet soil.

Those days were over.

He was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Information about ceremonies found [here](http://www.mohawkcommunity.com/home/ourbeliefs.html) and [here](http://themohawkgroup.weebly.com/view-our-research-not-intended-for-grading.html).


	10. Scrap #4

It was no secret that Haytham and Connor didn’t exactly get along.

They were too different, and yet too similar in all the wrong ways.

Stubborn, headstrong and argumentative as they were, it was no surprise that their conversations devolved into arguments more often than not. As a result, any kind of cooperation between them was rare and chafed at both of them, accustomed as they were to working alone.

Indeed the only time it seemed they were able to reach any true kind of coordination was when they were either fighting or fornicating.

After all the principles were rather alike, whether it ended with one of them trapped between a wall and their opponent’s blade, or slammed against a solid surface and fucked into submission.

They were equals in both rage and lust, and it didn’t matter who won their scuffles for dominance because if it was Connor who won this time, it was just as likely to be Haytham the next.

The truth was that they lived for the thrill of it, the surge of adrenaline, the pleasure of facing an equal.

It was satisfaction they couldn’t attain anywhere else, so they kept coming back.

Again and again and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll add more ficlets as I write them.


End file.
